


Ode to Sherlock

by GorgeousDeduction



Category: Ode to a Nightingale - John Keats, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Grief/Mourning, John Keats - Freeform, John is in pain, M/M, Not Beta Read, Ode to a Nightingale, Poem adaptation, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock is the Nightingale, Suicidal Thoughts, coping with loss, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6193120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GorgeousDeduction/pseuds/GorgeousDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An adaptation of Keats' Ode to a Nightingale. Sherlock is the nightingale and John is the poet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ode to Sherlock

1.

My heartbeat has slowed, my breathing shallowed  
Hungerless; like too many diazepam, 

I feel, yes I’ve gone a bit indulgent  
Sinking slowly into this painful abyss. 

This paining lethargy, brought on by jealously  
I know you must be happier where you are now: 

You, cunning and clever. So far above us all  
Must be thrilled more in death than in life. Facts. Faces. Places.  
Data strung together able to deduce faster than thought. 

2\. 

Shit, maybe drink instead! these feelings golden and warm  
Buried deep, are soothing when you speak, 

I remember them all, our adventures,  
Danger, in shadows, and adrenaline! 

Those times, better than vintage Macallan,  
Inspired only when writing about you. About us. 

Your eyes on mine, to the brilliance just behind them,  
Or lopsided smirks, not quite hidden; 

If I tipped this bottle to empty, I’d leave misery behind,  
To follow you always, running through the night; 

3\. 

I’d stop caring, worrying about hateful intolerance  
You never did try to hide, deny or dismiss. 

I’m tired of the endless, insipid pity  
Painful pedestrian gossip, hateful humanity; 

You’ve left me here to stagnate, rot alone,  
where you endure youthful grandeur; 

God this sentiment, pensive sentiment,  
funny that from me but I’m weary and worn, 

There’s no use wishing eternal youth or beauty,  
I can’t stop sickness or suffering or looking for love again. 

4\. 

There is a way! I will be with you again,  
Not through blackouts and acute respiratory failure. 

Through my writing. I could write about you again.  
These notions swirl, foggy and heavy: 

I can see you now! always looking so brilliant,  
Happily cracking the code, astounding us all, 

You, surrounded by supporters or doubters;  
Their dark cynicism, your superior skill,  
Shone somewhere within me, you saw us  
Together, you spoke with clarity and speed. 

5\. 

Without your fierceness, your fervor,  
it’s hard to see through the gloom around me, 

Easy memories, thrill of anticipation, beautiful battlefields  
Yearning for excitement or grace of combat  
You showed it to me once, I saw it in you;  
And when I dream I see it again; 

Flap of your coat as we run through cold rains;  
The heave of your chest and sweat from sweltering sun,  
Solving puzzles we reaped the bounty of bliss,  
like the huff of our breath close in quiet snow. 

6\. 

I’ve been here, in the desperate darkness before  
The finality, the certainty so appealing, 

There are many different ways as you often reminded,  
But the how doesn’t seem to matter any more; 

What’s more tempting is the daring of now,  
I could leave this world, let go without pain, 

Because your passion there must be better than your absence here  
The adventure that much greater with you beyond! 

But I’m an idiot to think your spirit would follow me in death-  
You exists here because your memory is here. 

7\. 

Maybe I can erase suspicion recently cast!  
be the steward of your legacy. 

Because my adoration, devotion is not unique  
what I feel has been felt between others for generations. 

Perhaps the words are mine  
but the mystery and intensity are all you.  
That is what will live on. 

A world that cannot see your sincerity must be changed.  
And I worry that without me here, they’d get everything about you wrong. 

8\. 

My mind has been clouded by selfish heartache  
but the fear of your memory in doubt has brought me back. 

Leaving this world to find you is a bit fool hearted, romantic.  
Something you would have so rightly reminded me. 

I hear your laugh! but can’t feel crinkles round your eyes  
expressive hands once graceful, now a blur,  
brows furrowing in thought; harder to remember  
Still I smile thinking you in your element: 

Was this a foolish fantasy to follow?  
I could find you nowhere but here: - Do I miss you less? 

**Author's Note:**

> I've searched but haven't found anything like this, so I'm doing it. The parallels between John's pining for Sherlock and the poet longing to be with the nightingale were to many to be ignored. 
> 
> I'm not, by any means trying to rewrite Keats. But I did try to keep things similar like stanza length, line length, and punctuation. The interpretations are mine but if you want to see my notes, let me know. I cited sources because I'm a nerd.
> 
> Thanks to @lets-say-hello for an initial read through. This is un-betaed. I welcome constructive feedback. I feel there is too much alliteration… Does John's voice come through with my word choices? It's probably too flowery for him dispite his romantic tendencies. 
> 
> Inspiration: BC reading [here](https://youtu.be/TdphtMWjies)


End file.
